A Rose, By Any Other Name, is Still a Rose
by amianfan102
Summary: Ian Kabra realizes in a split second who he is in love with: his crush, his Cahill, his red rose. His love is a red rose, the perfet symbol of beauty, grace, and danger. He sees his rose's sparkling emerald eyes and contemplates how he'll ever manage to capture shared desire. Who is he to deserve someone this perfect, this flawless? (Not IanxOC, don't worry).


_**A Rose, by Any Other Name, is Still a Rose**_

Ian could remember the exact moment when he had fallen in love.

Okay, so maybe it wasn't the moment he fell in love, but it was the moment when he realized who he was in love with. The two had been sitting down at the counter of the Cahill mansion, for once not arguing, and talking about everything and nothing, and some stuff in between. It had seemed perfectly ordinary, perfectly sane for one flawless moment, but then again, maybe that's when he realized something was off.

In a split second, he could see the gleam of intelligence in his object of affection's eyes, light hair catching the sun, fair skin radiating beauty. Tapered fingers played with the rim of a soda can, flicking the tab back and forth as the two of them sat in silence.

In that split second, Ian had a eureka moment. Maybe it was okay to fall in love with a Cahill. Maybe it was okay to fall for some insufferable know-it-all, who had some strange interests. Maybe it was perfectly fine to fall in love with someone forbidden.

Oh, but did he suffer after that moment. In just an hour the two were back to their fighting regime, at each other's throat about one thing or another that neither would remember in the morning, but Ian would worry about for endless nights in the future. And then his crush, hips swaying in a way he hadn't noticed before, dashed upstairs to bed while screaming, "_DAMN YOU, IAN KABRA!" _

Ian had sunk to the ground next to their couch, put his head in his hands, and laughed hysterically. It was a horribly broken kind of laugh, the laugh of a madman once he realizes something terrible. And yes, Ian had understood something terrible. He was inexplicably and irrevocably in love with another Cahill, someone deemed forbidden by everyone and anyone who had a train of thought in their mind.

That night he dreamed about them, the glow in their green eyes, and the way they talked when they brought up a topic they were passionate about. And boy, were they passionate about a lot.

His Cahill's eyes would light up in excitement, sometimes defense, mouth pouring out words and phrases that might not seem to connect, but in the end weaved together a miraculous speech. Ian was always left in shock from the pure love and amazement he would hear, though he'd reply in the same snarky comments each time. He could never let his feelings show.

It wasn't just his nervousness and wanting to hide his feelings that encouraged these replies, but the irreversible anxiety he had. After the clue hunt he'd been diagnosed with full-blown anxiety. He always thought people were judging, watching, thinking, hating, picking apart his very core. But with his Cahill around (it was rather unhealthy that this was what he refered to his crush as) he knew he was only hated because he couldn't quite express himself.

And this gave him hope.

It wasn't much hope, per se, but once in a while when Ian finally managed to let out a few kind words and tell his crush how he felt about certain topics, he could see opinions churning and changing. He could see the nature of change in a pair of magnificent, emerald eyes.

His Cahill was rough, with an inside of pure gold, and a lining of soft loveliness. Like a rose, with its delicate beauty but razor-sharp thorns, his crush was a perfect metaphor for dangerous grace. Ian sometimes wished that he had the heart to come out to everyone and explain his feelings but he was always too afraid. But he wished more than anything to be able to tell his crush how he thought of them, and how he saw their beauty like he saw a red rose.

One day, the two were sitting in the garden of the Cahill mansion, after his crush dragged him outside despite his protests that his suit would dirty. Above them the clouds drifted by, carried by a soft wind. They layed down in the grass, arms barely touching, and Ian was so frustrated he could cry, since he knew that there was no physical or mental way that this felt anything but platonic to his rose.

"I'm not blind," said his rose that day, eyes never leaving the clouds. "I can see how you look at me, Ian."

Ian went silent for a moment. "How so, _Cahill_?" he asked quietly, closing his eyes. "How do you imagine I look at you?"

"This isn't my imagination." His crush seemed almost amused. Emerald eyes twinkled with unspilled laughter. "You look at me like you've never seen anything like me. Like I'm something exquisite." Emeralds turned to his Amber. "Like I'm a fine jewel you want to buy."

"What are you getting at? That I find you beautiful?" Ian scoffed, fakely. All fake. His disdain was so fake it hurt him.

His rose smirked, amused. Ah yes, this was the crush he loved. "If that's what your version of love is, then yes."

"You believe that I love you?" Ian raised an eyebrow, keeping cool. "Most who believe so are just looking for a way to express their buried desire themselves. Do you desire me, _darling?" _

Dan Cahill propped himself up on his elbows, leaned into Ian's face and purred, "Yes, Ian Kabra, I most certainly do."

His lips caught his, and Ian was sure that he had never experienced a more perfect moment.

**Ah, I'm sorry for coming back from an indefinite hiatus with this. I noticed the lack of fics for this couple and i had to. Sorry but not sorry for misleading people to believe this was an Amian story. **

**Thanks for reading. :3 Review and you get a wonderful PM from me. **

**~Dani **


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